


You Earned It

by toewsyourheart



Series: Work Song [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Game Winners, Love, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Game, Some Fluff, adoration, exhibitionist, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3678738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toewsyourheart/pseuds/toewsyourheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two goals in forty-seven seconds to win it.  Patrick’s never seen anything like him.<br/>Features bathrooms and blow jobs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Earned It

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in the Work Song 'verse. AU-established relationship, set in not-real present.

Patrick shakes his head in absolute wonder, face split open in a wide, dimpled grin, as he watches Jonny step off the ice and walk down the tunnel, keeping his eyes on the ‘19’ until he can’t see it anymore.

 _Two goals in forty-seven seconds_   _to win it._

Patrick’s never seen anything like him—his refusal to quit, his determination. He’s just,  _so good_ , and God, Jonny’s hockey is  _so hot_. Patrick’s so proud and also turned on, to say the least. He can hardly focus on anything else besides getting down to see Jonny, to be with the team, even though he’s currently surrounded by his friends and family.

He faintly hears the congratulatory chatter around him, too fixated on making his way out of the suite. Everyone’s singing Jonny’s praises, clapping Patrick on the back, saying variations of, ‘Good win, eh?’ ‘That Jonathan is something!’ ‘Two goals!’ ‘Scoring two in your hometown, man!” 

Patrick tries his best to respond in a coherent manner, makes an effort to use complete sentences and everything. “I know!” “He’s something, for sure,” “That’s Jon for ya!” “Knew I’d never let him hear the end of it if they lost  _here_!” this and that… He’s happy to be with everyone, of course, but right now, Patrick’s got other things on his mind.

After stopping to talk to at least a thousand people it felt like, Patrick finds himself slinging open the door to the locker room. “Yeahhh, boys! Good fuckin’ win!” he shouts, instinctively scanning the room for Jonny. 

He’s greeted with shouts of joy and triumph, and of course, chirps about Jonny scoring two goals in Buffalo. “Hey hey, Kaner!” “Woooo, Peeks, Tazer winnin’ it for ya in your hometown, bud!” 

“Your boy showin’ out tonight, eh?” Sharpy says, waggling his eyebrows as he bumps against Patrick’s shoulder (the good side). 

“Something like that, for sure. Nice goal yourself, old man,” Patrick replies with a grin. “Where’s Tazer?”

“Thanks, Peekaboo! Shower,” Sharpy calls over his shoulder as he heads there himself.

Patrick, in all seriousness, has to fight the urge to go bombard Jonny in that shower. He’s not even slightly embarrassed to admit to himself how quickly he’d drop to his knees for him right now, tile floor be damned. Might even admit it to the whole team if they questioned him about it. 

God, two fucking goals in forty-seven fucking seconds to win it, in Buffalo of all places. It doesn’t feel like a chirp-able offense. Instead, the thought sends a flush of arousal up Patrick’s neck. Jonny showing off in his home city, in front of his parents, his sisters, his friends.  _Jesus_. 

He plops down into Jonny’s stall, too hot in his suit now, and discreetly adjusts the half-chub against his thigh. Patrick wonders if there will ever be a day when Jonny’s hockey doesn’t turn him on like this—he truly hopes not—and feels his cheeks flush with thoughts of Jonny, wet and naked, just on the other side of that door. 

He’s seriously reconsidering the shower thing when someone comes in with Buffalo wings, so that’s enough to distract him for the time being.

All the boys swarm them, ravenous after the game, obviously, and Patrick makes sure to snag plenty for Jonny before these “fucking hogs!” as he calls out to them, eat them all. 

“Hey, that’s hurtful stuff, Peeks,” Seabs says from behind the massive pile of wings on his plate, nudging Patrick playfully as he heads over to his stall. “Your stack isn’t exactly small there.”

“Well these are for me  _and_  Jonny. What’s your excuse, Seabiscuit?” Patrick chirps. 

“I got no shame,” Seabs mumbles out around a mouth of chicken, taking his seat next to Duncs who’s already blown through like five wings already. 

Finally,  _finally,_  a wet, half-naked Jonny makes his appearance from the showers, towel hanging low on his hips. He’s met with hoots and hollers from the team, shouts of “Yeahhh, Jon!” “Get some wings for the man!” “Hereeee comes Captain Clutch!” (Shawzy, obviously).

Patrick hears it all, but can’t manage to get anything out himself. Just stuck staring instead, holding a giant plate of Buffalo wings.

Jonny’s hair is damp, cheeks flushed, and Patrick can see the excess water glistening on his bronzed skin, over the hard muscles of his chest and arms. It’s fucking torturous that he can’t walk over and run his tongue through it, get his mouth on Jonny now. Because Patrick wants…

“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya,” Jonny calls out dismissively, waving the free hand not holding his towel in a ‘pipe down’ manner, smiling shyly at the praise. And  _God_ , Patrick wants to fuck him stupid. When Jonny’s eyes meet his, Patrick gives him a look that says so, biting his bottom lip, not giving a single fuck who sees the ‘I want you’ eyes he’s shooting him right now.

Jonny raises his eyebrows and Patrick sees that shy smile turn cocky, and judging by the flush rising on his naked chest, maybe a little turned on, too. 

 _Ah, message received,_  Patrick thinks, licking his lips, not taking his eyes off Jonny’s as he saunters over. 

“Ow ow!” someone (Shawzy, again) howls suggestively with a whistle—he must have seen the wordless exchange. Oh well. Patrick said he didn’t give a fuck, didn’t he? 

Patrick’s surprised when Jonny moves right into his space, still half-fucking-naked, and wraps his free arm around his shoulders, careful of his collarbone, always. He pulls Patrick in close, nuzzling his face against his curls for second. Patrick relaxes into Jonny, feels his dick twitch in his pants at his touch, his proximity, before Jonny pulls away, too soon.

“Those for me?” he asks, nodding to the plate of wings.

“You fuckin’ bet they are, Jon,” Patrick says, voice thick with arousal. God, Jonny’s so good and so hot and so  _his_. “Got something else for you too,” he adds with a wicked grin.

“Easy, Peeks,” Jonny mumbles knowingly, voice catching in his throat a bit, as he takes the plate and moves to his stall to get dressed. Patrick has to busy himself, go get some fucking napkins or something, when Jon drops his towel. He can’t be looking at him like that, not in here. Not when the situation between his legs is becoming more dire by the second. 

When he turns back around from making a drink and chitchatting with Saader, Jonny is clothed, and it’s both a blessing and a curse.

 

They finish up in the locker room, not a Buffalo wing left in sight, and he and Jonny head out into the arena to see Patrick’s family before they fly out in a bit.

Patrick keeps bumping into Jonny as they walk down the hallway, just wanting to make some kind of contact since he can’t do any of the other things he wants to do right now. 

“Glad you’re here,” Jon says seriously, grabbing his wrist for a second and squeezing, thumb skimming softly along the veins on the underside. It sends a shiver down Patrick’s spine. Fuck, he wants…

“You’ll be even  _more_  glad I’m here when we get on that plane,” Patrick says, matter of fact, and he sees Jonny’s mouth drop open a little as he steps away to call out to his family down below.

 

Not a moment too soon, they take their seats next to each other on the flight back to Chicago. After they reach cruising altitude, Patrick notices everyone preparing their travel pillows to settle in for sleep, and nobody’s in the seats across the aisle from them.  _Per-fect_ , Patrick singsongs in his head.

“Your friends enjoy the game?” Jonny asks, just making conversation. Patrick always hooks them up with tickets when they’re in town, obviously, so he was thankful his injury didn’t keep him away.

“For sure. None of them would shut up about you,” Patrick replies with a teasing poke to Jonny’s side. 

“Just got lucky,” Jonny says, like he really believes it, and Patrick feels the fondness in his chest and the heat pool in his belly. Captain Humble, always.

Patrick leans over into his space, bracing himself on the armrest between them, and runs his nose up Jon’s neck, along the shell of his ear, breathing in deeply. He smells like his soap, like his Jonny. 

“Luck’s got nothing to do with it, babe. Not with you,” Patrick says, lips catching on Jonny’s earlobe. Encouraged by the low grumble he hears from deep in Jonny’s chest, Patrick takes it in his teeth, tugs lightly. “Want you so bad right now, Jonny,” he whispers, reaching his hand down to trail his fingers lightly up the inside of Jonny’s thigh. 

“Pat,” Jonny breathes out, sounding hesitant, but turned on all the same. Patrick feels his dick twitch beneath his fingers, so he’s definitely sure Jon’s into this, but he grabs Patrick’s hand anyway, halting his advances, trying to keep it PG on the plane. “Not here,” Responsible Jonny says, a little half-heartedly, to be honest.

Since Patrick heard no true conviction in his voice, he fights against Jonny’s grip. “I think you earned it, don’t you?” he asks, voice low, nose still skimming whatever exposed skin he can reach. He lets his tongue slip out, runs it along Jonny’s neck, over the skin of his jaw. 

Jonny frees his hand then, and Patrick does an internal backflip, knows he’s got him on board now. 

“Yeah, Jonny. You want it too, huh?” he prods, continuing what he’d started between Jon’s legs.

“Are you two going to fuck on this plane?” Shawzy pipes up unexpectedly from behind them, whispering between the seats. 

Patrick freezes his hand and turns around a little. “Jesus fuck, you nosey bastard,  _maybe_ ,” Patrick shoots out, not too much heat to it, but still irritated at the interruption. “I recommend headphones,” he adds. 

Shawzy just chuckles behind them, probably thinking they  _would never_. But Patrick  _certainly would_  if he knew they could keep quiet. 

He turns his attention back to Jonny, back to his hand on Jonny’s dick. He’s applies more pressure now, and Jonny’s starting to fill up beneath his touch, the added friction from the fabric of his pants speeding the process.  

Patrick’s dying to get him out of there, touch him right. He tells him so.

“Patrick, we  _can’t_ ,” Jonny breathes, still no more conviction than before, and pushes his hips up a bit, so Patrick doesn’t stop. 

“We  _can_ ,” Patrick challenges, giving his shaft firm squeeze. Jonny lets out a small gasp, and Patrick takes that moment as an opportunity to go for his zipper.

“Not here,” Jonny repeats, but still doesn’t stop him. 

“The bathroom, then?” Patrick suggests helpfully. He doesn’t go for the zipper again, but he keeps up the steady stroke of his fingers along Jonny’s length.

Jonny groans, lets his head fall back and eyes flutter closed. He breathes in deeply, pushing his hips up again. “That—ah—that could work,” he stutters out quietly.

Patrick gets in close again, places a kiss to the corner of Jonny’s mouth. “Gonna make you feel good, baby. You were so clutch tonight, so good,” Patrick mumbles against his cheek, dragging his lips along the stubble of his jaw. 

Patrick’s taken by surprise (again) when Jon turns his head and presses their lips together, softly at first. Then even more surprised when he reaches his hand up to fist in Patrick’s curls and deepen the kiss. He takes full advantage, licking into Jonny’s mouth and he opens right up for it, so easy. He’s always so into making out, and Patrick is beyond happy to oblige, loves hearing the small noises he can coax out of Jonny with his mouth, with his tongue. 

Patrick speeds the light stroke on Jonny’s dick, and, hell, they might not even need to go to the bathroom if they keep this up. 

As soon as that thought crosses his mind, though, Jonny grabs his hand again and pulls away, breathing a little harsh now. “Wait,” he says and starts moving like he’s going to get up. “Wait a minute and then follow me.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Patrick whispers with a smug grin, grabbing a handful of Jonny’s ass as he pushes past him into the aisle.

Patrick tries to count to sixty, honestly he does, but he only makes it to like…twenty-five Mississippi’s once he hears the door close before he’s had enough and goes after him.

He knocks quietly. “Open up,” he whispers. The ‘occupied’ sign on the lock switches to ‘vacant’ and the door creaks open, and Patrick quickly pushes his way in. 

“That was not a min—” Jonny starts, but Patrick cuts him off, grabbing him to pull his head down and crush their mouths together. The bathroom is tiny, and Patrick accidentally backs Jonny a little too forcefully against the sink. “Ow,” he grunts. Patrick can feel him grinning against his mouth, though, so he’s not too concerned. 

Patrick breaks the kiss to re-lock the door, just to be safe, and then turns back to Jonny, hands going for his fly immediately.

“God, Pat,” Jonny breathes out, reaching down to help him. “Want you.” 

“Can’t wait to get my mouth on you,” Patrick says, a little frantic now, all the built up want from the game, from half-naked Jonny in the locker room, hitting him full force.

He pushes Jonny’s pants and briefs down around his knees in one swift motion, freeing his hardening dick from its confines, and almost goes down right then, but he thinks of how tired Jonny must be and pauses. 

“Here, sit,” he says, grabbing Jonny around his hips and moving him over to the toilet, leaving the lid up for…reasons. He wraps a hand around the back of Jonny’s neck, scratching his fingers in the hair at his nape, and kisses him hard, reaching down with his other hand to grab Jonny’s dick, play with his foreskin like he knows Jonny likes, retracting it and grazing his thumb over the head. Jonny moans against Patrick’s mouth, and he pulls back and drops to his knees carefully in the crowded space.

“Been fucking dying to do this since you scored that second goal,” Patrick says, rubbing up and down Jonny’s thighs, digging the heels of his hands into the tense muscles there. He grabs at the inside of Jonny’s knees, widens his legs, and then bends down to nuzzle between them, kissing his way up the inside of Jonny’s thighs. 

“Do it then,” Jonny pants, impatient. He reaches down to place a hand in Patrick’s curls, rubs encouragingly along his scalp. Feels good. 

“You got it,” Patrick says, taking the base of Jonny’s dick in one of his hand. He leans forwards and runs his tongue along the tip, takes it in his mouth to suck lightly. He hears Jonny’s head thump back against the wall and he stops. “Hey, eyes down here,” he says and waits until Jonny’s looking before bending down to run his tongue along the underside of Jon’s dick from base to tip. 

“Mmmm,” Jonny moans out, hips flexing, and Patrick brings his other arm up to lay it across his abdomen to still him before he really goes for it, taking Jonny’s dick deep in his mouth.

“Ah—oh!” Jonny chokes out, too loud, tightening his grip in Patrick’s hair.

Patrick pulls off. “Are you going to be quiet or not?”

“Not,” Jonny says with a sly grin, urging Patrick back down. He shrugs. Hey, if Jonny doesn’t give a fuck, he certainly doesn’t give one.

“Fucking exhibitionist,” Patrick says with chuckle, then his voice goes darker. “Better when I can hear you, anyway.”

He goes back to it then, gets his hand going in his rhythm, working up and down, swirling his tongue around the head when he reaches the top.

Patrick flicks his eyes up to Jonny’s face and moans around his dick when he meets his hooded gaze. Jonny’s biting his lip, and the small grunts escaping his mouth make Patrick move his arm from Jon’s waist down to his grab his own dick, needing a little pressure to keep things in check. 

Then Patrick moves that same hand up to Jonny’s face, takes two fingers and rubs them against Jonny’s lips. Jonny opens his mouth up, takes them in and sucks while Patrick keeps his mouth moving, mostly working at the tip now, short teasing bobs of his head up and down.

Patrick takes his fingers from Jonny’s mouth and brings them down and under Jon’s ass on the toilet to rub at his rim—his reasons for wanting the lid up. 

“Oh fuck, Patrick,” Jonny bites out, hips jerking, knowing where this is going.

Patrick presses harder around the edge, working to loosen him a bit, before he pushes one finger in, going deep with it immediately.

“Ah—oh shit,” Jonny moans, dropping his head down between his shoulders, pulling Patrick’s hair. He’s lapping at the head of Jonny's dick now, keeping up the stroke of his finger inside and pressing the other against his rim. 

“Do it,” Jonny urges, sounding half-wrecked. “C’mon, another.”

“Fuuuuck,” Patrick hisses out, and presses the second finger in slowly alongside the first, getting his rhythm going again, and resumes the work of his mouth on Jonny’s dick, sloppier now, knowing this is close to being over. Jon’s breathing heavy, ragged, the huffs of air leaving his chest coming out in short whines.

The angle is tough with the stupid toilet in the way, but Patrick manages, crooking his fingers up to stroke Jon’s prostate, once, twice, three times. 

“Pat, Pat—oh, god—Pat,” he chants, frantic, and then he comes, shooting unannounced down Patrick’s throat in hot spurts, hips bucking up off the toilet, clinching down on Patrick's fingers with the force of his orgasm. Patrick works to take it all, until Jonny finally relaxes and lowers himself back down, chest heaving. "Jesus," he breathes out, running a hand through his hair, still holding onto Pat's hair.

Patrick pulls off Jonny’s dick and out of his ass, making him whimper a little, and then leaves him to collect himself, standing up immediately to get his own dick out, straining against his pants now. 

His hand on himself is nothing shy of true relief at this point—seeing, hearing Jonny come apart like that…God, he needed to come like, yesterday.

Jonny gets it together quickly and stands, crowding against Patrick even though he is clearly busy right now. He pushes him against the door with a hand to his chest, kind of rough, and Patrick knows people probably heard that—probably have been hearing them this whole time—and he still has zero fucks to give about it.

“Let me,” Jonny says, a little short of breath, pants still around his knees, and bats Patrick's hand away, replacing it in his. Patrick only  _thought_  his own hand had felt good…

It doesn’t take much, especially with Jonny whispering filth into his ear the whole time, running his tongue along the shell of it, nibbling his earlobe. “Made that so good for me, Pat, God, can’t wait to get you home. Want to fuck you— _need_  to fuck you,” he corrects.

“Need you,” Patrick says back, not really making much sense, but whatever. He’s too close to be held responsible for what comes out of his mouth right now.

Two strokes of Jonny’s hand later, and Patrick’s moving him out of the way, stepping to the toilet as he comes, trying to direct it into the bowl. He’s only half successful, getting some on the seat, but oh well—it was worth a try.

When he gets his breathing together, he turns to see that Jonny’s got his pants up already and he reaches out for him, pulling Patrick into a filthy kiss, wet and sloppy, both of them loose and relaxed. After a few seconds, Jonny pulls back and rests their foreheads together, runs his free hand up and down Patrick's arm soothingly.

“That was—wow, I can’t believe I let you talk me into that,” Jonny breathes out, smile in his voice.

Patrick chuckles. “That’s what you’re going with?” he asks, leaning back to meet Jonny’s eyes, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t recall having to do much ‘talking you into it.’” 

“Alright, alright, you’re right. I definitely—I wanted it,” he concedes, blushing a little. Patrick just kisses him again, softer this time. 

“Well good, ‘cuz you earned it, baby.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: Written at a ridiculous hour, sorry for any mistakes. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is welcome & appreciated. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading ;)


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